


Unrequited Love's Required Traces

by fondtobond



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Healing, M/M, Poetry, References to Depression, Romance, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondtobond/pseuds/fondtobond
Summary: How the pieces click with each other and constitute whole puzzle perfectly, how stars align in the obscure night, shine into recondite sky and show humanity the unique part of universe which welcomed by everyone to complete all, how blossoms gather for a feller to present his beloved one; a child to gratify her mother, a sorrowful soul to remember someone, reminisce past happy times while face to face with solid ground and disperse to people who need them for different occasions, with different emotions like the blossoms they picked, they became a whole at the end.The ones who cared,Like them.~The story of despair and love with everything in between.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Unrequited Love's Required Traces

**Author's Note:**

> So... this was born in one day and it will be the first time for me to share something with all of you cupcakes. 
> 
> I had things in my mind for the future, we will see.
> 
> But now, let's dive into the smallest piece of deeply required love.

They said, "A heart that's broken was a heart that's been loved."

He was loved, he was cared for, he was... he was alone. His heart didn't seem to be found from broken pieces. These pieces were made throughout his life, each of them was a mark he'll always be possessing of. 

He was looking at his reflection, he was looking at his life and he was thinking, thinking when it'll end. When his life will meet with his end, when he'll release from the demons in his head. He was trying to reach the truth of the misery, if it was ever not seeking for infinity.

He was young, sixteen. Still he knew too well to be feeling as if he was every rock that's been crumbled, every colour that's been suppressed, every face that's been faked, every body that's been ashamed; every tears poured down, every emotion held inside, every word stuck.

He knew it all. 

He felt it all. 

He wasn't the same person who had received people's disgust for eating. He was the same person who didn't want to eat at a table full of people. He wasn't the same person who had given names by people. He was the same person who was afraid of people's thoughts, people's moves, their eyes, their words. 

He was afraid of the perspective from which they were seeing the world. 

A perspective he made himself the forest. The forest was aware of his value yet people didn't possess the grace for his awaited respect.

He had a home but the meaning of a home was stuck between his broken pieces. He was shown a piece of love but his heart had already been suffocated with silent screams and loud fights, sweet welcomes with bitter goodbyes. He was welcomed, but he had never fully welcomed himself.

There had been days which were the servants of despair. They were worn the darkest black when his dad didn't come to home and when his dad did come to home. They were worn the grey when his mom was awake to see a drunk man and when his mom was sleeping to escape from a drunk man. They were worn the white when his tears suffused his vision but didn't fall to be not seen and when his tears were fallen down to be shown but no one there to be the one who wiped the wet cheeks, suffused their endless void.

Sometimes he wanted to be free.

Free from everything.

Free from life.

Sometimes he wanted to set himself free.

He had never did,

But he had tried.

Then he was hidden underneath the blankets, he was whispering to darkness, his words were blurred as his vision, his tiny hands were on his heart, holding his beating. With the most fragile whimpers that had ever been heard, he was making the world listen to him. 

"I w- wa- want to live, I- I want a l-life, I wan- want to be- ... I want to be alive."

He held his promise alive as if the dearest composition of his life could survive, he would too. 

He suffocated himself with the tenderness of his skin and weeping willows with everlasting sin.

He never let the river die off, that would sadden the forest.

Whereas he was the forest that's been drained away in the each life of the river.

✩✩

They said, "A life with love is a life that's been lived."

He thought he had lived his life.

Till one day he was shown to be loved.

He had written a story of affection that fell into the wind and his precious sun when he was young enough to not know what the love between two people who weren't tied by the tides of blood was, but seen enough to grasp how the love should be defined by kindness, bathed beneath innocence.

_Undetermined times ago, on summer day wind had seen an indescribable beauty. A beauty that was welcomed in the arms of clouds, sitting at the edges of rainbows and glowing onto earth with her all glory. Sun. Wind had seen the sun, his sun. But unfortunately she never became his to be called his sun because wind had never gathered his feelings together, never had been brave. In the mornings he ignored her, in the middays he ignored her, in the afternoons he ignored her. He ignored every after she's born to a morning and he ignored every before she died to a night. The wind was appalled to steal one single glance to the effulgent sun. Because he's aware of the fact that even one glance to the beauty shining from the above was enough for him to fall and lose himself. So he didn't show his face to anybody in the summer when the sun's up in the sky, smiling down to earth. However he left his traces to people who're under the trees, when his unrequited love was distracted with open areas..._

His sun found him under the apples that were dangling around the branches, shuffling with soft brushes of scarce wind. 

Under the delightful redness, various flowers were sunbathing while inhaling brightness in and exhaling gratification out. Pebbles were surrounding flowers like protectors and forming a path to a river.

A river that was completely bare to the curious gaze of his lover, deeply vulnerable to be craved for his touches.

A river wanted to be held not only by stare but hands. A hold could heal all the wound. A touch could alter all the life. A river could be purified all in this hold and touch.

He was watching how the river swayed with the lullaby that's the tender brushes of wind when he saw him. 

Eloquent people were lost in the words.

Heavenly scenery was amazed in the entirety.

When the cosmos espied, the world was long gone, that's when he cried for his sun.

His sun, his boy. 

His now, his beyond.

His love, his heart.

His Louis.

He saw him sitting on the visible roots of the apple tree, trying to see his shoulder without moving his head. A butterfly that was colored in blue was spreading his wings and touching his shoulder. 

His eyelashes that had welcomed to sun were gleaming to nature, his eyelids that were blinking every nine seconds were holding a paradise, his eyes that were the only way to reach this hidden paradise were taking the butterfly's all splendour to himself and making everyone around him jealous to not have his shade of blue. A blue that opened up to a paradise, a blue that every time you looked became your paradise.

He decided then. 

This golden boy was his sincerest wish to make, his purest want to get. 

He watched him dancing under the daylight, swimming under the moonlight.

He envied the sun that was breathing behind these lashes in silky satin, he envied the moon that was sheltered by these lips in lenient cotton. He envied the morning that was born with the opening of these eyelids in elegant velvet, he envied the night that was falling in the goodbyes of these eyes in glorious lace.

He painted him in his mind, portrayed him in his words.

He poured his heart to the grace of sharp papers, he enveloped his love from the edges. He wrote after each piece taken away in the presence of his sun, he replaced these pieces by the gleam appeared within the sunrise. He laid every poem upon the silhouettes of trees against the dimming sky. He spread out every piece of his in the honour of being seen when he was the most vulnerable for, the most in need of someone's leniency. 

He was afraid to be shredded.

One day, he saw his sun coming closer.

Clattering sounds accompanied him with every step taken. He heard the infatuated beat of his heart, blood was rushing low in his veins that had been made up from mistakes. Mistakes that belonged to himself and mistakes that were stolen from him by the cruel fate. 

He heard the voice whispering heartfelt welcomes which he was not prepared for them to come.

He saw the wonders of his life by the single touch lingered upon the dimples of his might. 

He felt the nudity of the ocean when the eyes beheld in the tides of his poems describing the sun by the yearned pleas of the dark night.

He smelt the fragrance reaching into his lungs and breathing him inside. Feather like chest was caressing him after witnessing the sorrowful and evermore difficulties of a broken lifetime.

Then he tasted...

He tasted the singularity of cosmos where the curvature of spacetime became infinite. 

He tasted the life with love and the heart with grace after he gave himself to his upcoming phase.

He tasted the hugs he had craved on the lips he faded away.

He tasted the angels he had never seen on the tongue devouring him up to the gates of his heaven.

He tasted the welcome of himself on the skin of a foreigner who was the most intimate companion.

He tasted the home he had never belonged in the arms holding his waist alongside the fingertips caressing his face.

He tasted the gratitude of being alive in the breath assured him in the path of his promises.

He tasted the river had been suffocated by his tears running dry in the wipes, whispers, hushes and hopes beneath the blanket was made from the caring of love that heated him warm.

He tasted the fresh roses within the tobacco vanilla. 

He tasted the boy.

He tasted the sun.

He tasted his boy and his sun and his every ever after in which he will forever be loved.

✩✩

Tranquil blueness was laughing wholeheartedly to the reflected colors on his surface when he met with the sun.

The river's laughter wasn't inaudible to the ears but was visible to the eyes.

It showed the ones who assessed or possessed, to the end of the story.

_...Somehow wind's lost traces turned into someone's way back home._

_His._

**Now and Beyond...**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I hope it was able to affect you in some aspects or make you feel, let me know what you think.
> 
> The post is [here](https://poetstryintowrite.tumblr.com/post/643025108349419520/unrequited-loves-required-traces-by-fondtobond) and you can find me [here](https://poetstryintowrite.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you later cupcakes :)


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